Fragrance Free
by DianeB
Summary: My first and maybe last "Docsmut."  I'm finally taking my turn to peep into the bedroom after the credits rolled on the S3E5 episode, "Breaking Up is Hard to Do."  Louisa's pov, of course.


Title: Fragrance Free  
><span>Author<span>: DianeB  
><span>Rating<span>: T-to-M  
><span>Pairing<span>: Martin/Louisa

Summary  
><span>and Blame<span>: This is a "scene we didn't see" that follows the final scene of S3E5, "Breaking Up is Hard to Do," from Louisa's point of view. It's not necessarily a sequel to "We Belong," but is merely my attempt at bedroom fic for Louisa and Martin, which I've lovingly dubbed _Docsmut_. I blame the _Doc Martin_ fanfic writers out there who've already tried this – and you know who you are – because you're the ones who inspired me and encouraged me – and you should be ashamed of yourselves! (And by "ashamed," I mean not at all.)

A/N: Many, _many_ thanks to **Littleguinea** (from ffdotnet) for her fair eye to editing and to checking the "Americanisms." Thanks also to **jd517 **(also from ffdotnet), for agreeing with me that certain phrases just cannot be substituted for anything else. Written May, 2011.

Disclaimers: This story is for entertainment purposes only. I claim no right to anything affiliated with _Doc Martin_. This story contains a sexual encounter between two consenting adults. If this isn't your cuppa, please don't read it!

* * *

><p>Even as she was in his arms and kissing him deeply, Louisa knew the futility of suggesting to Martin that they go directly upstairs and consummate their engagement, no matter how much she could tell that certain parts of his anatomy were ready. Certain parts of <em>her<em> anatomy were just as ready, but it would do no good to suggest such a thing to him. So instead, as the current kiss ended with need for a breath, she suggested something he might be more in line to accept.

"Martin, why don't you take your bag and the defibrillator back to the surgery and then come back? While you're gone, I'll change the sheets, get, uh, _comfortable_, and then we can…" she paused, trying to think of the best way to word it without actually _wording_ it, when he beat her to it, using innuendo she'd never thought him capable of without a bottle of wine in him.

"…uh, test the sheets?"

"Martin!" She exclaimed in mock horror, but smiled widely to show how very much she was _not_ displeased.

"Right, then," he said, and reluctantly put her down, picked up his bags, sighed heavily, and left the cottage straight away. As soon as the door clicked shut, she ran for the stairs.

**oOo oOo oOo**

Louisa had never changed her clothes _or_ the bed sheets as fast as she had that afternoon. In less than fifteen minutes, she was ready, having washed, (judiciously avoiding any kind of fragrance except the soap's), changed into her newest undies (a matched set of rose-colored, lace-edged bra and knickers), and put her favorite red sheets on the bed. Wrapping her dressing gown around her and standing back to assess the bed, she wondered if maybe it was too much, that the bold color would make Martin uncomfortable. Then she recalled his smart-arse quip about "testing the sheets" and dismissed the thought with a sinister shiver, her mind conjuring up an assortment of less-than-chaste images of Martin clad only in red sheets.

Remembering one final item, she went to the bedside table and extracted a small, discreetly-labeled box, pausing a moment to recall the day she made this purchase in Wadebridge. It had taken her a while to decide what size to buy, given she had never actually seen Martin naked, but in the end, after considering the size of everything else about him – ears included – she bought the extra- large.

Now, standing next to the bed, tapping the box against her palm, she entertained the idea of waiting up here in the bed for him, perhaps naked, or at least without the bra. She even went so far as to lie down on the bed, box still in hand, pretending he'd entered the bedroom and imagining how she'd act.

Unfortunately, _sultry vixen_ was not her style (not being sure if she even _had_ a style), so after having a bit of a laugh at herself, she tossed the box onto the bedside table and opted for the practical. Tying the sash on her dressing gown, she stopped to check her face in the mirror and then padded downstairs to wait for Martin.

**oOo oOo oOo**

As one minute stretched into another with no Martin, Louisa began to fear he was not coming back, that getting away from her had cooled his ardour and he'd changed his mind, had somehow decided this was a bad idea. Fiddling with the sash on her dressing gown, she sincerely hoped that wasn't the case, because she wasn't sure how she'd ever salvage herself or the relationship if he wasn't willing to take this step.

Just as she was about to go looking for her mobile, dreading having to make such a call, she saw Martin's shadow darken the window in her front door, after which came a soft knock. Walking to the door, her stomach surprised her by starting up Olympic-sized back flips. She tried scoffing at the feeling, reminding herself that neither of them were virgins, but her belly wasn't buying that. This wasn't about something as base as the number of past sexual encounters either of them had had, this was about trust and love, and other emotions that were harder to define – the real reason for the stomach antics. Besides, it had been a rough road getting to this point; she didn't want to spoil it by doing or saying anything that would give Martin a fright or, worse, trigger a medical lecture, which was _more_ of a reason for the stupid flips.

What she really wanted was to avoid a lecture of any sort, but realised she had no idea how to go about it, aside from stripping naked before him – and she wasn't one hundred percent certain even _that_ would work. Suppressing a laugh as she reached the door, she opened it, and the laughter died in her throat, replaced by a very large lump, which she struggled to swallow past, giving the back flips something to anticipate.

Martin stood there, still suited up, but without the tie and with the top two buttons of his shirt undone. _Two_ buttons, a daring fashion statement for Martin Ellingham, and one Louisa was glad the lump in her throat prevented her from commenting on. He looked – thank God – just as nervous as she felt, but he also looked utterly _edible_, and it was all Louisa could do not to leap into his arms again. With great effort, she kept her feet on the floor, deciding that since he was wearing far more clothing than she was, it would be wiser to keep her body to herself for just a little while longer.

"Hello, Martin," she said, as embarrassment reared its spiky little head to remind her she'd just been thinking of him as a big piece of creamy chocolate. Her stomach's back flips gleefully traded themselves for anatomical flipping a bit lower down.

He stuttered a return greeting, perhaps feeling a bit…sugary, and stepped inside without waiting to be asked, which didn't make a bit of difference to her.

They stood just inside the door, staring at each other, until Louisa couldn't take it anymore. "Would you like a drink?" She caught herself and added, "I-I mean of water, or a cup of tea or coffee?" Even to her own ears, she sounded like an idiot and struggled to come up with something better to say. But the only thing that came to mind was how good the skin beneath those two undone buttons looked, which led her straight back to thoughts about his consumable state, neither of which would qualify as "something better to say."

Martin spoke before she had a chance to gather her thoughts into a more respectable remark. "No-no, nothing to drink. Louisa-" He stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again. "Louisa, may I, uh, that is, would it be all right if I could just...hold you again?"

It was perhaps the most innocent, most sensuous thing he could have ever said, and it set her heart to soaring. She folded herself against him, inhaling deeply the scent of him, willing her heart to slow down so she could hear past the sound of it thudding in her ears.

They stood that way for another couple of minutes, swaying to music unheard, and when she raised her head to his, the kiss that came was as natural and as unfettered as it could have possibly been. No fireworks, no bells or whistles, not even a seagull screeched to mark this as the one true moment when Martin Ellingham and Louisa Glasson found perfect harmony.

As the kiss ended, Louisa found herself gasping at the feel of her feet leaving the floor. Martin had lifted her into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all and was carrying her up the steps. She noticed the sash of her dressing gown had come loose, but made no effort to tighten it up again. This non-effort was not lost on Martin.

**oOo oOo oOo**

Once in the bedroom, Louisa asked Martin to put her down on the floor, rather than on the bed, which he did. She considered refastening her dressing gown, then immediately thought better of it, leaving the gown to gape open. "You're far too dressed, Martin."

He looked at her and then down at himself, almost as if he were surprised to find himself clothed at all. "Er, yes, I am," he said, removing his jacket and laying it carefully across the back of a chair before reaching for the third button of his shirt.

Louisa watched as he undid the buttons, pulling the shirttails out of his trousers. Removing clothing was always the most awkward part of sex, no matter how many times couples claimed they made it part of foreplay, and this time was no different. Therefore, in the split second before Martin got the last button undone, Louisa decided to even the odds a little, as well as give Martin more incentive. As he shrugged out of the shirt, she did the same with her dressing gown.

She heard Martin suck in a breath and saw him freeze, as the shirt fell to the floor in a heap, followed immediately by Louisa's idea of evening the odds. To say that seeing Martin shirtless was arousing her would have been a magnificent understatement, and she was suddenly happy for the cotton crotch in her knickers. But in all that haze of arousal, her brain managed to cough up one rational word: _trust_. She smiled and stepped forward, putting her hand on his belt buckle, which he immediately covered with his own. "Do you trust me, Martin?"

"With my life."

"Brilliant," she whispered, pushing his hand away and unhooking the belt.

It was not long before they were both naked together on Louisa's clean, red sheets, and Louisa knew for certain that her purchase in Wadebridge had been the correct one.

**oOo oOo oOo**

Lying facing each other, they had been kissing for a couple of minutes before Louisa acted on impulse and pressed her thigh up between his, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him.

She added more pressure, just to make sure he understood that her movement hadn't been accidental. "Martin?"

"Louisa, I-I…"

His voice trailed off, but she couldn't tell whether it was because he was unhappy or just nervous. She ached for him to touch her, but was afraid to ask him for fear he would shut down entirely.

The ridiculousness of it nearly set her off laughing. They were naked on the damn red sheets, for God's sake! She knew her body's signals, knew her state of readiness, and she could certainly _see_ Martin's. It didn't occur to her that Martin might be wanting the same thing until their voices chimed in unison.

"Touch me, Martin."

"May I please touch you?"

"Hurry," she hissed, adjusting herself to give him room as he quickly snaked his hand down between them. When he came into contact with her sodden curls, he parted them to explore deeper, and she reacted entirely on instinct, pushing herself against his hand, pushing her lips onto his, and moaning with the pleasure of it.

Unsurprisingly, Martin's fingers were just as educated as the rest of him. They seemed to know not only all the right places to touch and stroke, but the pace at which to do so, and to Louisa, it felt like heaven. She drifted in the luscious sensations, moving her hips in counterpoint to his fingers, purring in the back of her throat like a cat with a bowl of cream, content to stay this way forever…

…until the sensations suddenly ramped up twofold, and it became clear that "forever" would not be an option. Familiar tingling along the backs of her thighs signaled a galloping rise to finish that she was unable to stop or even slow. Ripping her mouth from Martin's, she sucked in a ragged breath and tried to tell him, but one look into his sparkling grey eyes told her he already knew.

"Come for me, Louisa," he said, his voice thick with emotion. His educated fingers slowed, while the ball of his thumb applied swirling caresses just where Louisa desired them most, and that was all it took.

**oOo oOo oOo**

Louisa's final shiver of pleasure left Martin asking if she were cold.

"No, Martin," she said, smiling at his concern, "just taken a little by surprise, that's all."

"Yes," he agreed, stretching over to kiss her.

Not breaking the kiss, she took this opportunity to shift her body beneath him, in a renewed attempt to provide incentive and also to give him a clue as to how she wanted to proceed. Unfortunately – though Martin managed the clue – he also managed to give her hair a vicious yank when he shifted to accommodate her. Since it hurt, she was unable to stop a cry of pain.

He pulled his hand away, putting all his weight on the other arm, and began brushing at her hair, immediately contrite. "Sorry! I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's all right," she said, stilling his hand. "Perhaps I should've tied it back. But it's okay now." She gathered her hair into a knot, released it to lie less tousled on the pillow, and then reached for the box on the bedside table, again shifting her body so she was better aligned beneath him. "Now," she said, rattling the box, "where were we?" Their difference in height and body type might be a problem with fit, Louisa thought absently, even as her body busied itself revving up for a more traditional go of it.

Martin had to reposition himself in order to open the box and retrieve a condom, but once that was successfully accomplished and he was fully sheathed, he returned to his place above her. Watching him put on the condom gave Louisa a pang of longing she never thought could be achieved by observing such an ordinary task. She squirmed beneath him, almost overwhelmed with desire. "Martin?"

He smiled down at her. "Yes?"

She tried for a vixen-like comment, just to see how he'd react, and also because her whole body was thrumming with anticipation. "Let's go then, shall we?"

His reaction surpassed anything she could have imagined. He slid his warm hand under her bottom and gently raised her. Guiding himself to her with a surgeon's precision, he looked straight into her eyes, inhaled deeply, and said with distinct devilment, "Right, then. Let's give these sheets a proper testing."

It didn't take Louisa but a moment to realise (with sublime satisfaction) that there had been no need for her worry about fit.

The Very End.

**oOo oOo oOo**

Author's End Note: If anyone thought this was easy, they need to think again. I'm no stranger to writing smutfic, but this was _hard_ (no pun intended)! I can only attribute that to the characters themselves: Louisa and Martin do not care for fans messing about in their bedroom, even though they know we can't help ourselves! (**Littleguinea**, by the way, was the one who wanted me to name the size of the condoms. After all the help she's given me, I was happy to oblige.)


End file.
